


Safety First

by komorinana



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Blood Kink, Blood licking, Bloodplay, Bottom Rhys (Borderlands), Choking, Established Relationship, Face Slapping, M/M, NSFW, Nosebleed, Programmer Handsome Jack, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Top Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:33:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23244067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/komorinana/pseuds/komorinana
Summary: Up-and-coming Hyperion stooges Rhys and Jack are shipped off to Eden-6 to present their newest ECHO tech invention, but it's not exactly the romantic long weekend away Rhys was hoping for. Jack's temper flares at the drop of a hat, and when just a few too many things go wrong, he's ready to explode. It's lucky that Rhys is a glutton for punishment.Did someone say dubious AU bloodplay? ...No? I wrote some anyway.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 65





	Safety First

**Author's Note:**

> hi hello! mori here. i'm clearing my laptop of filth and stumbled across this absolute gem of pwp. yeah, it's shameless bloodplay. i hope my tags were enough to warn you that this is utterly depraved but final warning to yall who don't like rough rhack. do i need to tag anything else?? not sure 
> 
> stay classy, hope u enjoy 🖤

_Fucking Tassiter._

He knew damn well how much stress Rhys and Jack were under to finalise their cybernetic project for the upcoming quarter but, in his infinite, bastardly wisdom, he’d decided to ship the pair off to Eden-6 to present their blueprints to the higher-ups. It was a massive leap forward in ECHO technology; they’d done well to stick to the budget Hyperion gave them. It was Rhys’s concept - an artificial eye that could display a wireless HUD to its user - executed as perfectly as a prototype could be by his partner in crime, Hyperion’s most underrated programmer, Jack.

Tassiter didn’t like to be one-upped - and, of course, their department-wide gloating hadn’t done them any favours. Plucking them away from their workstations for three whole days was a power play, and Jack hated being under anyone else’s thumb than his boyfriend’s. Like good little worker bees, they’d accepted their fates, muttering only a few curses under their breaths.

The morning of their flight to E-6, Jack was flying off the handle at every little thing. If it weren’t for Rhys, he would’ve thrown their apartment’s coffee pot into an airlock when he’d burned his hand on the side of it. By the way he was white-knuckle gripping his seat as they waited to board in their terminal, it’d take a miracle for him to see the brighter side of a long weekend away from the office.

Jack’s leg didn’t stop bouncing the entire flight - a tell-tale sign that he was listless or, to put it bluntly, itching to drive his fist through something solid. As usual on long journeys, he’d still fretted over Rhys when he turned green with motion sickness, but his annoyance with Tassiter was still thick in his voice.

“Come here, Rhysie.” He’d said, unbuckling both their belts when the sign above them pinged, pulling up the armrest so he could properly offer somewhere for Rhys to rest his head. The only way Rhys could make it through a flight without throwing up involved having a shoulder to lean on, a neck to bury his face in, and a lap to half-sit on. He always chalked his sickness up to how other people smelled - cheap colognes that, apparently, weren’t as nice as Jack’s, or plasticky air-conditioning, or frantic last cigarettes, or cheap to-go breakfasts.

Jack rubbed circles into his boyfriend’s back in lieu of anything more intimate he wanted to do; they were both about to spend seventy-two hours of unadulterated stress, and light touches weren’t even going to slightly fix that fact.

“Jack.” Rhys stirred from his semi-conscious state, stretching his long legs awkwardly underneath the seat of the person in front of him before smiling at his antsy other half, who managed a small smile and a _hey_. He shifted around a little, clearly unhappy with the way his neck had settled, and the look on Jack’s face soured.

“Wanna listen to music with me or something?” Jack asked, wishing that he could do something that’d actually alleviate Rhys’s discomfort. He’d promised a private jet of their own one day more than once - one with noise-cancelling walls, or however they built them - but Rhys always brushed it off, claiming that he’d stowaway on a dinghy and throw his guts up all the way to the South Pole if he was doing it with Jack. The sentiment was a lot nicer than his words made it sound.

Rhys had only shaken his head in response to Jack’s question, which was followed by: “you thirsty? Wanna play cards? Need the bathroom?”

“If you keep this up,” Rhys finally responded, “I’ll tell the whole programming board you’ve gone soft.”

“More like trying to avoid a reunion with the breakfast muffin you ate a couple hours ago but, sure, let’s go with that.” Jack joked, prodding Rhys in the side much more gently than he would’ve if he wasn’t painfully aware of his boyfriend’s fragile stomach. “Soft.”

Jack’s attempts to subdue his own bitterness came to a grinding halt when they landed; of course, Tassiter hadn’t pre-planned a taxi for them, and Eden-6 was so overloaded with tourists that Rhys and Jack had to cram themselves into a not-so-private coach.

“Knowing you, you were looking forward to groping me in the back of a car.” Rhys said over the din of yet another group of strangers with their chairs reclined dangerously close to Jack’s knees, a knowing smile on his face in almost perfect juxtaposition with Jack’s scowl. “At least we didn’t have a long wait at the circle thing for our bags, right?”

“Carousel.” Jack deadpanned, refusing to play footsie with Rhys as he looked over the itinerary he’d written down, cross-checking every last meeting.

“Right.” Rhys replied, giving Jack some breathing room, presuming that he’d get an apology for Jack’s temper as soon as it stopped flaring. Jack’s need to micromanage was a detriment at times, especially in situations where neither of them had control. “That’s what I meant.”

To Rhys’s dismay, Jack’s temper did _not_ stop flaring.

“No, no, no. A double room. _Double_. Not a twin.” Jack argued, tapping the company-issued credit card on the hotel receptionist’s shiny desk as Rhys hovered behind him, luggage in tow. “I’m not sleeping in a single bed.”

“We can push them together.” Rhys chimed in, exhausted at the arrival of another problem. “It’s not the lady’s fault.”

“Hyperion didn’t send us any specific requirements for the room, sir.” The receptionist tried, sliding the card reader and the room key across the table like a child who’d been dared to poke a snake with a stick. “So, please, that’ll be four-hundred and fifteen dollars.”

Knowing that it was a battle he couldn’t win, Jack paid for the room and stormed off with Rhys, mumbling something about refusing to take even two flights of stairs as he ushered Rhys into the elevator. When they entered their room, Jack didn’t stop to survey it in the way Rhys wanted him to - like couples on vacation would, all excited about the fancy bathroom and the mints on the pillows.

“It’s nice. Should I unpack everything, or should we just live out of our case?” Rhys asked aloud, re-arranging the beds so they were next to each other as Jack wrestled his laptop out of its case and sat at the small desk they’d been given. The only reply Rhys got was Jack spewing his own versions of obscenities at his laptop, but he carried on anyway. “I mean, I’m hanging our suits up. I’m so glad you brought this one. It makes you look like you have an ass.”

Confused that he wasn’t met with so much as a _my ass is wonderful_ , Rhys looked over Jack’s shoulder. A blue screen of death glared at them both through their only laptop’s monitor.

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I wish I was.” Jack said, dread thick in his voice, standing up and slamming the laptop shut, hard. “I need to… shoot something. _Punch_ something.”

“Because that’ll help the fact that the only laptop on the planet with any use to us is, what, faulty? Broken? Jack, I-”

Jack stood as Rhys’s voice nearly broke; what was supposed to be _their_ invention, _their_ first, brilliant step onto the corporate ladder was doomed. In the unbridled rage he felt, Jack took the few strides over to his boyfriend and pulled him forward by the wrist to kiss him very, very hard.

It took Rhys a moment to process the turn of events before he could press his newly awoken passion against the person he adored, to reciprocate the kiss that felt like he was being given a busted lip, to grab the shoulders in front of him with the force and intent to bruise. His knees his the edge of the mattress as Jack guided them both backwards, but the hand on the small of Rhys’s back kept him upright. The other hand was mercilessly grabbing Rhys’s hair, and Jack breathed heavily through his nose before finally breaking their maddening kiss.

“I’m sorry, baby, but I _need_ to fuck you.” He whispered, as if he was letting Rhys in on the secret of the fate of the world, and Rhys stiffened with arousal, heat pooling at his crotch. “I need to take _what’s mine_. I’ve needed it all goddamned day.”

“I need it, too.” Rhys all but begged - knowing that his voice was shameless and that he’d hate for anyone but Jack to hear him like that. “ _Use_ me.”

Being Jack’s outlet - raw, messy, fast and wanted - was his favourite thing in the universe - he was ecstatic to be the one Jack chose to curl up to, and pound into, and _take_ from. He wouldn’t trade anything for feeling helpless under Jack, those piercing eyes cutting straight through him leaving no room for pretence. Right now, he probably wouldn’t even trade it to have their laptop working again.

“Want this in you?” Jack asked, dirty and uncaring as he pressed his hardness into Rhys’s trembling thigh, the thick outline of his cock straining underneath his jeans leaving nothing to the imagination. Rhys nodded frantically, squirming against the promise of roughness. “I need a proper answer.”

“Yes. Raw. Inside. _You_.” Rhys said, words slurred through the sloppy kisses he took from Jack before the hand behind him was removed and he was pushed harshly by the hips down onto the bed. Rhys arched his back and opened his knees, wide. “I know our words. I trust you. Be _really_ hard with me.”

Wriggling out of his trousers to Jack’s visible, hungry delight, Rhys pushed his cock against his stomach to grind upwards into his hand, just as desperate for friction as he was to steal Jack’s full attention, legs still wide open to make sure Jack could see his hole. Rhys didn’t have to put on his show for long; being such a hero, Jack couldn’t keep his damsel waiting when he was in such a state of distress. He hooked his hands under Rhys’s ankles and placed them roughly over his shoulders - it stung when they landed against the grip marks Rhys’s hands had made minutes prior, but Jack wasn’t complaining. Rhys could be as territorial as he liked tonight; God knows Jack was about to be.

Rhys bent in a way that Jack wanted painted and hung up in a museum - it was filthy, naturally, but the way Rhys’s chest reddened against the blue ink scrawled across it and the tight muscles in his stomach contorted against the pressure was pure _art_. Jack wasted no time in pressing two fingers against Rhys’s entrance, fingering him all the way to his knuckles. Rhys had to concentrate on breathing all the way through this; he gripped the white duvet beneath him, trying not to choke on the moans that escaped him as Jack bent him until they were face-to-face, panting at each other in-between more kisses.

“Take it all.” Jack demanded when he removed his fingers and positioned himself at Rhys’s entrance. Rhys hissed at the intrusion - a giddy, shocked, _incredible_ sound - and clenched involuntarily before Jack could make it to the base. “If you can’t take me, I won’t fuck you. Simple as that, Rhysie.”

“I can!” Rhys protested, his lower body quivering as he wrapped his arms around Jack’s neck, taking the empty threat as sincere. He latched onto Jack’s jaw in hopes that it’d make his boyfriend stay, nipping and sucking at the skin there, spilling unholy noises into Jack’s ear as he started to thrust through the tightness.

A few harsh thrusts weren’t enough to loosen Rhys enough, and tears formed in Rhys’s eyes far quicker than he’d admit when Jack pulled out and let Rhys’s legs fall unceremoniously from his shoulders.

“I can take it, I _promise_. What- what are you doing?” Rhys exhaled shakily, trying to pick himself up as Jack toyed, slowly, with the red head of his dick.

“I’m gonna take you from behind, pumpkin.” Jack growled, watching intently as Rhys struggled and whined about flipping himself over. Jack helped to position his boyfriend where he wanted him - right at the head of their bed with his pretty ass in the air, hands spreading his abused hole as open as he could (which was another pose, in Jack’s opinion, that should be in a museum). “I don’t care how ready you think you are.”

Rhys shouted something that would’ve sounded like _but I am_ if it weren’t for Jack taking everything he wanted again, forcing himself inside before setting a rough rhythm that had the headboard banging against their room’s wall. Jack _really_ hoped that the poor bastards next door were grateful - this was the closest they’d ever get to screwing the brains out of the most beautiful thing that’d ever graced Eden-6. If the banging wasn’t doing it for them, Rhys’s strangled whines certainly would.

Needless to say, their I-hate-my-job-fuck was going perfectly well until Rhys tried to find his balance by placing his hand in the small gap between their mattresses, slipping and head-butting the bed frame with the force of Jack’s hips behind him.

“Fuck!” Rhys shouted after the resounding crunch of bones, hands flying to his face as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Jack stopped in an instant, body rigid as he slid out of Rhys to try and assess whatever real damage had been done.

“Baby, come here. Let me see.” Jack said quietly, trying his best not to sound condescending as he placed a hand on his shoulder to turn Rhys around. He was met with a defiant noise. “I don’t care if you’re embarrassed, okay? Did you… bang your head on the frame?”

“I banged my _nose_ like the big, un-sexy idiot I am. It’s not broken, it’s just-” Rhys complained, propping himself up on his elbows to tilt his head and meet Jack’s strangely alarmed expression. “Shit, is it bad!? Is it crooked?!”

“It’s…” Jack trailed off, staring down at Rhys, hands and face coated with deep, fresh blood.

Jack had seen quite a lot of blood in his day. From watching Hyperion troops mow DAHL soldiers down on Elpis to board meetings gone wrong, he’d always had a particular, secret fixation with the way it _poured_ out of people. The excitement of watching someone’s life quite literally _drain_ from their body was a turn-on he didn’t plan on sharing with someone as precious as Rhys in a million years. Jack’s priority, especially when they played so rough, was always Rhys’s safety.

…But _goddamn_ did Rhys look good, staring at him over his shoulder, trembling. Jack’s cock throbbed between his legs harder than before. The anticipation in Rhys’s eyes as he dripped red from his nose was too much to handle, and Jack couldn’t stop himself from tearing Rhys’s thighs apart again.

Breath staggered, Rhys’s expression begged Jack to finish his sentence and tell him just how bad his nose was, bit he was met with another bruising kiss. Jack’s tongue lapped at the blood on his top lip before he took Rhys’s mouth again, and again, but what made Rhys’s mind click into action was the familiar sting of Jack’s tip being pressed desperately at his entrance.

“You… you like me looking like this, Jack?” Rhys asked, grinning as Jack moaned above him, unable to contain his excitement as he pushed into Rhys again, their dilated eyes locked and tongues coated in blood. “You like… roughing me up? You’re a _monster_. I’m _bleeding_. You should be helping me, Jack.”

Rhys’s taunts were shallow through his needy whimpers, but more than enough to work Jack up into even more of a frenzy. He commanded Rhys’s body with only a semblance of a pace, and Rhys had no choice but to let his blood drip onto the once-spotless, white pillows under him.

“I’m a monster?” Jack groaned, breathless as he stole more bruising kisses and licks from Rhys, digging his hands into wherever he could find purchase enough to make a mark. “I’m not the one making the _mess_.”

Jack pushed Rhys’s head down, hard, fingers tangled in Rhys’s hair as he rubbed his boyfriend’s face against the bedding, coating the pillowcases in blood before he was allowed, after far too long, to come up and breathe again. Rhys’s chest heaved, a _blissful_ smile on his face as Jack attacked his neck and groped his nipples with the hand that wasn’t craning his neck up by his hair.

“I need to look at you.” Jack commanded, voice hoarse, as he positioned Rhys roughly on his back again. He didn’t leave Rhys any time to recover before he was driving his cock back where it belonged.

With his entire body on show again, Rhys put both his hands on his face to coat his fingers in the remaining blood before sticking as many of them as he could fit into his mouth. Jack moaned as he watched Rhys degrade himself for him, entire body pliant, eyes lidded and foggy.

Satisfied with his shoddy clean-up, Rhys began to trail his messy fingers all the way down his body, ghosting past his perky chest, past his taut stomach, settling on the leaking dick that twitched and pined for overdue attention.

“Oh, God, _play_ with it, cupcake.” Jack said, only able to tear his eyes away from the display after he was sure it was etched into his memory, sliding himself out of Rhys to follow the same path Rhys’s fingers took, peppering his skin kisses and licking up the blood-trail before his tongue met Rhys’s cock.

He licked Rhys slowly, meaningfully, as if he was sizing up a meal - savouring has blood the blood Rhys’s fingers had left on it made it feel. He ran his teeth along the whole length of Rhys’s shaft and Rhys, sniffling and mewling, arched into the danger. Jack warned Rhys’s movements with a gentle bite to the head of his cock, but Rhys didn’t shy away - not even as Jack added pressure, not even as Jack moaned when he looked up and saw the drying smears of blood framing Rhys’s jaw and cupid’s bow like oil paint.

Taking more of Rhys into his mouth made Rhys grab Jack’s shoulders so hard that his nails broke his skin - red dots of his own pooled around the dulling finger-marks from before, and the vibration Jack’s growl sent through Rhys’s dick made his eyes roll back and his voice do _obscene_ things.

Blood and spit dripped down Jack’s chin as he took _all_ of Rhys, angling his tongue just enough to cup the base of Rhys’s cock perfectly, and Rhys couldn’t stop his hips from slamming upwards into Jack’s hot, slick throat. There wasn’t any protest from Jack anymore; the taste of every vital part of Rhys mixing together was better than ecstasy but, of course, Jack let go of the dick in his mouth when Rhys’s thrusts became _too_ involuntary, _too_ close to completion.

“Put your mouth _back on my cock_.” Rhys protested; hips not strong enough to jut up against Jack’s hands laid flat against them. “I need to cum and you’re gonna _let me_ , Jack.”

Rhys’s bold disobedience earned a laugh from Jack - a low, menacing sound - as he crawled back up to meet Rhys’s face, cupping his jaw with a cruel grip.

“What did you say to me?”

Rhys nearly faltered - Jack could see the apology stirring in his mind as he contemplated submission - but he didn’t. Willing his voice not to shake, he repeated himself. “I told you to put your mouth back on my cock and let me cum.”

The _crack_ of skin-on-skin echoed across the room and seemed to bounce against the far wall. Rhys’s cheek was bright red in an instant, a large handprint forming like a brand against the side of his face. Jack was about to move - about to apologise or run and fetch something cold to press against the mark so it wouldn’t swell, but Rhys’s laughter cut him off. He was _giggling_.

“Again.” He managed, delirious with want, as if the force of Jack’s hand had rewired something in his brain. His nose was spotting blood again and Jack felt his own want wash over him. To break Rhys in this way - to objectify and ruin him - was _beautiful_. “Fucking bruise me, Jack.”

The second slap, of course, was far better aimed at Rhys’s nose. He bled far more than a trickle, and Jack wanted to hurt the willing little body he owned _more_. He was inside Rhys again, gripping Rhys’s cock for good measure, and he refused to let up when orgasm came crashing through Rhys’s body. Rhys begged for kisses - to be recognised as a good boy - but Jack’s kisses were ruthless and claiming.

Jack wasn’t going to be satisfied until Rhys came dry. He couldn’t tell how long they’d fucked for, but the adorable way he clawed at Jack’s back let him know that he was clawing at consciousness, too. Even his whines were getting weaker and, when he put his hand in Jack’s hair, his grip hardly made an impact. _Still_ , for Jack, he kept going.

“It’s good,” Rhys panted, “but if you want to break me, you need to try harder.”

Jack tutted and grabbed Rhys’s forearm until his knuckles were white - far harder than he should’ve - so Rhys let his feeble hold on Jack’s hair go. He licked Rhys’s lips again, relishing the way Rhys kept trying to give him a kiss even as he moved away, along his bloody cheek, stopping by his ear.

“You’ll _love_ this, Rhys.”

Holding him down by the throat, caked in sweat, Jack allowed himself a few, final thrusts before he let Rhys take his cum, finishing with a string of low groans, emptying every bit of frustration that’d cumulated to where they are now. He gave Rhys everything he had, and Rhys took it with the filthiest _thank you_ Jack had ever heard.

As his dick softened, Jack took it out of his boyfriend, who keened over his inability to stop Jack’s cum from dribbling out of him. Jack leaned back and basked in the sight - Rhys tried to keep his hole shut by straining his thighs, but it was too fucked open to tighten anymore.

“I don’t wanna stop feeling full.” Rhys explained, unprompted, eyes closed. He reached out for Jack’s hand and Jack took it earnestly, bringing Rhys’s up to his lips for a peppering of gentle kisses.

“Silly baby.” Jack whispered, refusing to let go of Rhys, crawling over him. He snook his free hand behind Rhys’s neck, guiding him up so he could rest his weight against Jack’s chest. “Feeling okay?”

“More than okay.” Rhys sighed, nuzzling into Jack, who indulged Rhys’s clinginess by cooing and stroking his hair. He pinched the bridge of Rhys’s nose _very_ tentatively to make sure the bleeding had stopped.

“Cupcake, I’m gonna get you cleaned up. I’ll wipe everything off so gentle you won’t even feel it.” Jack said, practically nursing his boyfriend to sleep as he looked at the bloody bed before them; the room had a… Pandoran vibe to it, now.

“Gonna sting tomorrow.” Rhys hummed as Jack shifted as slowly as he could to pick Rhys up, setting a course for the hotel’s en suite.

“I’m doing that presentation alone. I deserve it for roughing you up so bad.”

“Like hell you are.” Rhys complained, and Jack bristled a little at the prospect of Rhys being so vulnerable in front of Hyperion’s truest stooges. “We could use this to our advantage. Tell ‘em, _oh, you should see the other guy_ , and they’ll think I’m a total badass.”

Jack didn’t opt to respond to Rhys’s not-so-fool proof plan, bending awkwardly to wet a flannel under the tap while he sat Rhys on the countertop next to it.

“Jealous other people will get to see your handiwork?” Rhys joked, pliant as the dried blood on his face was wiped away, not even minutes from falling asleep. “That you’re not gonna be the only one who gets to see me whine when I sit down cause I’m sore?”

“Shut up.” Jack said, fondness lacing his words far more than he would’ve liked. “Just… shut up and let me clean you.”

“Okay, Jackie.” Rhys replied, thoroughly enjoying the distaste Jack held for the nickname. “Okay.”


End file.
